The Cardinal Rule of Bromantic Endeavours
by WhoNatural
Summary: In which Quil discovers online dating, and long-suffering best friend Embry has to deal with the latest scheme in the quest to get laid. Set some time after New Moon, but not exactly strict with Canon.


******A/N: Hey guys! Those of you reading B&H seemed to enjoy my take on Quembry, so I thought I'd share this with you. It was originally supposed to be a drabble based on a prompt from Megan (Meliz875) – but I kind of got carried away, because it was way too much fun... It's separate from my other stories, and completely stand alone. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

******The Cardinal Rule of Bromantic Endeavours**

******Embry POV**

"Dude, I got even more replies!"

He raised his hand by his face, pointing at the screen in a stabbing motion to build up my excitement along with him. I lifted my arm from where it lay over my forehead to give him a disbelieving look. This was a fucking joke - Quil had another thing coming if he thought online dating was the way to go. I mean, it was the last resort of the truly desperate, and I wasn't fully able to admit that that I was in _that_ kind of dire straits.

"She says she's Brazilian, and lives just outside Seattle," he informed, scanning the page. His brows furrowed in concentration and I bit my tongue. I'd stayed up entire nights with Quil, studying for history tests and math exams, and never once had I seen this level of attention given to _anything_. "I wonder what else is Brazilian..." he mused, raising a brow.

I flopped my arm back over my eyes, sighing. "Quil, I supported you through your Superman phase in second grade, and the time when you were thirteen and you thought _Xena, Warrior Princess_ was a real person and you were going to marry her with the offering of a healthy, two-year-old-goat, but this, I refuse to indulge. You're being played, and you're probably talking to a guy."

He was _still_ paying his mom off for the re-upholstered couch after Suzie, _said_ healthy, two-year-old-goat got a case of the munchies.

I heard him scoff before he buried his hand in the packet of Cheetos and crammed what was probably half the contents in his mouth. "'At's whut _ooo_ fink." He swallowed heavily and tapped his temple when I looked at him again. There was cheese dust making a Colonel Sanders moustache out either side of his mouth. "I've got a system. No-one's gonna play _me._"

My mouth curled on one side as I raised a brow, and I sat up on the couch. Should have known that all hopes of taking a nap between patrols flew out the window the moment Quil threw my front door open and demanded to know where the laptop was. "_Mine's got spyware. Fuckin' SpankTube,"_ he'd grumbled, by way of explanation.

"A system," I said evenly. "Alright, Genius, let's hear it."

He narrowed his eyes smugly. "These chicks aren't talking to me, they're talking to _Santos,_" he said, zipping his open palm in front of him, as if envisioning the name.

"'Santos'?"

"_Santos_." He did the hand thing again. I rolled my eyes.

"E-lab-or-ate. Who the fuck is 'Santos'?"

"Santos is a rogue, a badass who doesn't take shit from no-one," he said, lowering his voice for dramatic effect, sounding like a trailer for an action movie. "He's got a black belt in _everything_ there is to get a black belt in, kills and eats his own food, and in his spare time, he builds schools for underprivileged kids, feeds the homeless, and models for dildos. Oh, and he's a millionaire."

I pressed the back of my head into the couch's headrest, trying desperately to summon the strength and patience that was required to be Quil's best friend. "Dude, you're a fucking idiot."

"You won't be saying that when I get us both laid," he said confidently.

"So what, you're pretending to be this Latino billionaire-"

"_Millionaire_," he corrected, "Come on, man, it has to be believable – what would a _billionaire_ need a dating site for?" His tone made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, and his face pretty much matched.

I shoved the heels of my palms into my eye sockets harshly and let out an anguished whimper. "Okay, yeah, I mean, _obviously_..." My hands flopped back down onto my lap. "So this Latino millionaire with a huge dick is talking to all these women online, and they just believe that? You don't even look Hispanic..." I said, knowing I was pointing out the obvious, but with Quil, I never could be sure.

"You think I'm stupid enough to put a picture of myself on there? It would ruin the entire plan," he scoffed. "No, my profile picture is of my second best feature."

"Second best?"

He nodded. "Well, technically third, but it was really fucking difficult to get a good picture of my butt to put on there, and I didn't think you'd agree to take it. And if I put my _very_ best feature on it, I'd get kicked off for violating the rules, so I couldn't. " I stared at him blankly for a second before he gestured towards his crotch, winking. I finally stopped fighting the urge to groan into a cushion.

"Wanna see it?"

"No, Quil, I've fucking seen it. _Everybody'_s seen it."

"What? No, dumbass, not _that._ This..."

Before I could object, he spun the laptop screen around to reveal a blurry, cellphone picture of his abs. Quil definitely wasn't winning any prizes for photography any time soon. "Very nice," I deadpanned.

"Ladies seem to love it," he said proudly. "I've gotten three-hundred and fourteen replies in the day and a half since I uploaded that. It's like damn catnip to them." He shoved another pawful of Cheetos in his mouth and gave me a neon-orange smile. "Imagin' if 'ey shaw my butt!"

Shaking my head, I couldn't help but chuckle.

"I hate you, Quil."

"Pfft," he scoffed. "No, you don't."

I scrubbed a hand through my hair, I guess wondering how the hell I ever got into a conversation like this."So, wait, what happens when they want to meet you? Don't you think they'll realise you're not who you said you were?"

He gave me a look like he felt sorry for me. "Man, you are so clueless... I'm not actually going to _meet_ any of these women, this is... research."

"Research? Into what? How many lies you can tell over the internet before someone sees through it?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "No, research into which places have the most single women, then the most attractive. I put together some statistics, maybe a bar-chart or two for comparison, and whichever is the winning location, gets to be graced with our presence."

"_Our_ presence? No way, man. I am having no part in this."

Quil looked pleadingly. "Aw, come on... it's weird if I go out by myself, then I just look creepy and desperate. I need a wing man. Besides, you need this just as much as I do."

"No way. Not if you paid me."

* * *

He didn't have to pay me – just annoy the crap out of me _twenty-four-seven._ I found out that the main reason Quil wanted a wingman was because he needed someone to drive. No insurance company would take a gamble on someone who had crashed every car he'd owned in the two whole years he'd been driving, and the one car he _didn't_ crash, he took random parts out of to sell to Jake, just because he was feeling down about Bella hooking up with the Cullen leech. He then had the bright idea to cry "robbery", and file a claim.

That's kind of Quil all over – his heart's in the right place, but he usually picks the most idiotic way of helping people out. I think it's the only reason I ever let him talk me into these things – I know he'd probably do the same for me.

We were about a half- hour outside Tacoma when he came out with another gem.

"You know that rapper, LL Cool J?" he said, turning down the stereo and twisting in his seat. It was obvious that he still forgot how huge he'd gotten, sometimes. Well, at least that's why I _hoped_ his shirt was so tight I could see his nipples. "The LL stands for 'Ladies Love'.. so I got to thinking."

"Quil, I am _not_ calling you LL Q-A. Forget it."

His face scrunched up in annoyance and he jutted out his jaw."You're such a dick. I would call you Eminembry if you wanted. That's just the kind of friend I am."

"Nobody in their right mind would ever want to be called Eminembry. Just drop it."

So help me, I tried, but I couldn't hold in the smile.

Fucking Eminembry? _Really?_ I spluttered aloud and bent over the steering wheel. "Eminembry! Holy shit... where do you get this stuff?"

Quil smiled warmly and shrugged. "Just comes out, I guess. Plus, chicks love funny guys."

"Oh yeah? Well what will that make me?" I said, glancing away from the road at him.

"You're the shy, innocent, corruptible one. They'll eat it up." He leaned back in the seat and crossed his arms behind his head. Quil was so used to flexing his biceps, he did it without thinking, even if there were no girls around. "You should embrace it."

I rolled my eyes. Why did everyone say that? What the fuck was so sweet and corruptible about me? For all they knew, I'd done stuff. Dirty stuff. With lots of girls.

I hadn't – well, not much, anyway, but _they_ didn't know that.

"Well then, what's Jake? The eye-candy?" I said goadingly, but he just shot me a withering look.

"Never knew you'd such a soft spot for him. Want me to make an excuse not to be there next time we hang out?" he asked slyly.

I nodded. "Oh, please do. I'm just dying to sword-fight our weiners," I swooned, and Quil turned positively green at the thought.

"Dude, too far, even for me!" he wailed, pressing his fingers into his temples in an effort to scrub the sentence from his brain. I tried not to think too hard about it – it kind of _was_ too far.

"Yeah, sorry.. I guess you're rubbing off on me," I apologised through a laugh. "But seriously, what's Jake in this equation?"

His mouth gathered on one side as he thought about it. "Jake is... he's the comfort. You know, after a long day, he'll just take you in his arms and make you feel good about yourself," he said thoughtfully. I almost swerved the car.

"Dude... Are you sure you don't want _me_ to stay home next time he invites us over?"

Quil was the one laughing now. "Oh man, totally worth almost getting into a car wreck!" he breathed, clutching at his stomach.

"Fucking hilarious," I muttered, clenching my teeth together. Quil was unfazed.

"In all fairness, you, me, Jake – our powers combined, we'd make up a pretty kick-ass guy," he said, as if he was an authority on the subject.

I let _that_ hang in the air for a while. We all had so many issues that I was sure it _would_ take all three of us combined to be in any kind of functioning relationship that wasn't with a Volkswagen or an Xbox.

"So, you still haven't told me where we're going. I know it's not some club, because it's what, 7:30 now? Way too early," I said, veering off the subject.

"Relax, man, I've got it covered," he said enigmatically, peering out the windshield. I knew by his posture that he was purposely trying not to give anything away – and that did _not_ bode well for me. If Quil was hiding something, it either meant I wouldn't like it or it wasn't entirely legal.

"Wait! You, missed the turn!" he exclaimed, slapping a hand on the dashboard to jerk my attention. He was practically bouncing in his seat now. I pulled the car back and made the right into a street which was milling with people. Female people. _Older,_ female people.

"Dude... what is th-"

The words died on my lips when I caught sight of the concert hall, and the huge, LCD screen on the outside. There was no mistaking who was playing.

_BACKSTREET BOYS COMEBACK TOUR – TONIGHT!_

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I demanded, slowing the car down to look at him head on. He nodded at me, eyes wide.

"I know, man, I'm excited too. It's genius!"

I crashed my forehead straight into the steering wheel, emitting a loud honk that seemed to make several Backstreet Boys fans scatter like frightened pigeons. With my luck, one of the older ones would have some kind of stroke and I'd get done by the cops for manslaughter, or some kind of hate-crime against the elderly. Or fans of 90s pop ballads.

"Dude, tell me we did not just drive three hours to come to a _Backstreet Boys_ show?" I pleaded, pulling into a parking spot a few feet away.

"We did not drive three hours to come to a Backstreet Boys show. We drove three hours to pick up hot, older chicks. And we will, as soon as you stop whining about it," he said unbuckling his seatbelt.

"You think I'm actually going to pay to go in there?" I said, following him out of the car.

"I told you. I've got it covered." He pulled out two tickets, waving them in the air. "Now come on – the ladies are waiting."

"I hate you, Quil."

"No, you don't."

* * *

_whyamIherewhyamIherewhyamIhe re..._

"Dude! I can hear you brooding from over here!" he called over the crowd noise as he nodded his head to the piped music. It was intermission, and I was pounding shots of tequila like there was no tomorrow. At least I didn't have to worry about getting ID'd, but that was of little consequence, it was burning off quicker than I could drink it. Quil had already lined up three 'MILFs' in his sights – trouble was, they were either here with their husbands or their own kids, and he'd been shot down each time.

"Holy fuck – three o' clock... she's just begging for some teenage man-meat!" he crowed, wandering off. I shook my head, watching him go before I turned back towards the bar. "Hey baby, I don't care who you are, or where you're from... I don't care what you did, as long as..."

His voice faded off into the din while I downed yet another shot.

"Now there's something very wrong with this picture," a husky, female voice said, jerking me from my _whyamIhere_ refrain. I turned from where I was leaning on my elbows to the source – and my jaw dropped. If ever there was an embodiment of a hot cougar, this woman was it.

She had long, flowing red hair, covering her shoulders, which were encased in a skin-tight, expensive looking black dress that hugged her in _all_ the right places. She looked like something from those rich-teen dramas that Leah still watched, but pretended she didn't - where all the ladies wore Chanel perfume and lingerie that cost more than my house. This lady took care of herself, and I instantly wished I was five years older, and not the stuttering teenage boy I instantly turned into when someone like _that_ looked my way.

Flashes of every porn movie I'd watched involving a stable boy or a gardener instantly came to mind, and all blood rushed out of my head to, well, _other_ areas.

"Uh, excuse me?" I said. _Wow, why doesn't she just peel her panties off, like right now?_

"Not sure why you feel the need to drown your sorrows at an event like this, but you sure as hell are too pretty to be doing it on some cheap-assed liquor, and alone." Her lips pulled up one one side as she appraised me, leaning onto the bar as she lengthened her body. Those legs went on for miles, and I wanted to uncover _every single inch_ of them.

I tore my gaze away, realizing I was ogling her and I stacked the shot glasses up in a little tower as I thought of something to say that wasn't '_Take me, I'm yours.'_

"I'm, uh... here with a friend," I said, jerking my head towards where Quil was leaning his arm obnoxiously against the wall as he talked to the woman he'd spotted, finding any excuse to flex his bicep. She didn't follow my gaze, instead moving seamlessly closer while I was distracted.

Her cleavage was the type that sonnets were written about.

"Girlfriend?" she asked, but I got the feeling she wouldn't care either way. I shook my head. "Good, I'd hate to have to steal you away from somebody." Our arms were touching now, and I could smell her $200 perfume. _Fuck, please, steal me._

I shook my head a second time, partially in answer, partially to clear the fog from my brain."No, I'm free for the taking. Honestly, it probably wouldn't be much of a challenge, for _you_ anyway." _Oh, you did not just say that._

She laughed lightly, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Oh, you're so sweet, I like you. What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Embry," I said, still inhaling the scent of her hair. This was getting creepy.

"Hmm, I like it," she smiled mysteriously, straightening up to look at me again. "Well, Embry, I'm Adele, and I own this place." She held out her hand delicately for me to take, and it took all the strength I had not to fall to my knees and and kiss it.

"Nice to meet you... it's uh, a nice place you've got here."

She smirked." It used to be, but now we have to rent it out for stuff like this, and since my husband let me have it in the divorce, it hasn't been easy to keep." She frowned almost imperceptibly, and held up her hand dismissively. "But that's neither here nor there. Why don't I show you what someone of your particular aesthetic _should_ be drinking?"

"No, it's okay, I'm used to the cheap stuff... the burning gets kinda numb after a while," I said, and she smiled kindly.

"Indulge me. Louise? Bring me a bottle of the top shelf tequila, two glasses."

The tequila was good, and she was stunning, and we moved into a private room once the band started performing again. Adele was _the_ perfect woman, and I'm pretty sure something horrible had been done to me in a previous life, because I did _not_ deserve this.

Just as it was getting to the point where she looked like she wanted to leave – and maybe bring me home with her, there was a scuffle with the security at the door, and Quil landed unceremoniously at her feet. I saw the moment he took in the sight of her, his eyes travelling languidly up her legs, over her taught stomach and her cleavage and landed on her face. His jaw slackened and he straightened up, still on his knees and took her hand. He pressed a kiss to it, and then.. well, _then,_ he started speaking in tongues.

"_Mon enchanteresse belle, prends-moi dans votre royaume, et utiliser mon corps jeune et inexpérimenté pour votre pur plaisir propre!"_

"Quil, get the fuck up!" I hissed – he was going to ruin everything, and I was never going to find out if her underwear was all lace and silk and black like I'd been imagining.

"It's quite alright, Embry," she purred, helping him to his feet. "In fact.. I think your friend here might just be a deal-breaker," she said, something cooking behind her eyes. Quil seemed to snap himself out of his trance and begin reaching out to run his finger along her mouth, like she wasn't even real. She giggled good-naturedly, cupping his face with her palm.

"A deal-breaker?" I said, swallowing thickly. I was going to _kill_ him for this. Slowly.

She helped Quil to his feet and had us stand side-by side. "My, what a scrumptious pair you make," she said leaning up to brush a lock of hair from my forehead. "As I was saying, I've got certain... appetites, that many men find it hard to fulfil, _alone..._"

_Uh-oh._

"So I was thinking, if certain other parties were willing... We could make an event out of this... I've got a limo waiting outside... My apartment isn't far from here... what's say we continue this elsewhere, and we bring your little friend here to sweeten the pot?"

Quil looked dumbstruck. I could tell this wasn't exactly his idea of a great time – with me involved, but when he thought with his dick, all common sense flew out the door. _I,_ on the other hand, knew how messed up this could get, but I wanted her so bad I was pretty sure you could use certain parts of my anatomy to hammer together a coffee table.

"I.. uh... do you mind if we talk this over, Adele?" I said, already pulling him off to the side. She gave a polite bow and smiled.

"By all means."

"Dude... this is big," he breathed, eyes wide. "I mean, legendary big... a cougar, a threesome... man!" He wasn't even forming full sentences now.

"Quil, wait a second... this isn't exactly the type of threesome everyone dreams about. There's definitely the wrong ratio of dudes to chicks here."

He nodded sagely. "Yes, the Devil's Threesome – it's a challenge, but I think-" he looked back towards her, where she was splayed on the plush couch, now nursing a glass of whiskey. "We can handle it, man - we owe it to each other, as bros." He held out a hand to me, and I honestly don't have a fucking clue if it was the amount of alcohol I'd consumed, or the fact that I could see Adele's nipples through her dress, but the next thing I knew, we were in the limo, in the dark, and hands were _everywhere._

Her body was just as perfect as I imagined and surprisingly, we managed to make a pretty good team. I unzipped her dress running my nose over her soft skin as I revealed more and more of this goddess who somehow thought we were worthy of sleeping with. Quil handled her shoes, worshipping those amazing legs, and the scent of her arousal and that damn perfume had my head swimming.

I was doing this. I was _really_ doing this.

The problem, though,with being a werewolf, is even in the dark, we can see everything, and hear even more. Everything was fine – amazing, really, until the moment she leaned back on the seat, artfully groping us both through our pants, and I heard a groan. It wasn't a sexy, enchanting, fuck-me-she's-hot groan. No, this was guttural. It was a growl.

It was _Quil._

My eyes shot open, brain finally catching up with the haze and I looked at him across her, instantly breaking the cardinal rule.

_You never make eye-contact in a Devil's Threesome._

I stiffened, and so did he, and I don't know which one of us yelled "Stop the car!", but within seconds, we were tumbling into the street, phasing on contact with the ground and making a bolt for my own car.

Only thing was, phasing on the fly kind of ruins your clothes, and now we were going to have to drive home like this.

Naked.

For three hours.

Together.

_I hate you, Quil._

_Yeah, I know._

* * *

******A/N: The original prompt was******** to explore what could happen if the guys were approached for a threesome.**

******The translation for Quil's little French outburst is roughly: "My beautiful enchantress, take me to your kingdom, and use my young and inexperienced body for your own pure pleasure!"**

******I haven't studied French in about six years, so I can't vouch that it's exactly right...**

******Let me know what you think!**


End file.
